The Battle for Willendorf
by WillieHewes
Summary: Ok, there's something seriously wrong with this fic. Nosgoth is teeming with endless possibilities for grade A angsting, and what do I do? I write a happy celebratory story about the definitive victory over humanity. What! Even Kain is happy in this! O.o


  
  
THE BATTLE FOR WILLENDORF   
  
He awoke from shreds of dreams to hear his name spoken. He knew the voice well. "Kain... my Lord?" Light seemed to blind him, but it was Kain himself, white skin and hair, and those bright yellow eyes looking down on him. He tried to move, but his body felt unwilling and leaden. Nothing here was familiar, he did not know why he was here, lying down. A bed? He did not understand. His mind ached, it was trying to put his memory back together from the tatters that were left to him, but too many pieces were missing. "Where am I?" he asked. His voice sounded dry and weak.   
  
"You, my boy, are in the royal bedchamber of king Oswald the second." Kain answered. The meaning of his words filtered through only slowly. Willendorf. The battle. The king... If he was in his bedchamber, that could only mean one thing.   
  
"We won."   
  
"We took the city. Willendorf is ours," Kain said with a greedy smile.   
  
Raziel felt his hand twitch as if it wished to raise itself in victory, but couldn't. He closed his eyes, happy, for the moment unconcerned about his own state. He remembered the battle, Oswald's champion, that towering suit of armour. He must have fallen, but he could not remember how.   
  
"And now, against all likelihood, you have returned to us. You have your brother to thank for that. Your own men had given up on you, and frankly, so had I."   
  
Raziel heard someone else in the room, and he willed himself to sit up. He recognised the stout figure immediately. "Mel--" He was cut off by a stab of pain blossoming through his chest. He gasped, and doubled over. A red cloud seemed to blind him and he struggled to speak as he finally realised why his body would not obey him.   
  
"Hungry?" Kain's voice sounded, close to his ear. In the next instant, he was clutching a bleeding wrist to his mouth. Kain's own wrist. _Kain's own blood!_ He was ravenous, blind with hunger, but still aware of the honour served to him by his Lord in this instant. His blood was the strongest in Nosgoth. It coursed down his throat, and an exquisite pain spread through his limbs as his body was restored and reanimated. He moaned and trembled like a newborn, drinking greedily until Kain wrenched his arm away. He could feel his heart beating heavily and quickly, and he sat up, panting, almost laughing. The powerful blood of the vampire Lord had immediate effect. He felt his head clear, and he could move normally. He leaned against the headboard and became aware that he was naked, but for the sheet that covered him. He was also dirty, dust and grime clung to his skin. He looked up. Kain was still standing over him, his arms crossed, and at the foot of the bed was Melchiah, a worried expression on his face.   
  
"I knew you were not gone from us," Melchiah said, "I could sense your soul, still clinging to your broken body. You would not let go! I called out to you, in that dark place, do you remember?"   
  
Raziel shook his head.   
  
"What do you remember?" Kain asked.   
  
"The battle turning in their favour," Raziel answered without hesitation. "Oswald's champion -- he beat my men down with that enormous axe, one after the other. I saw my sergeant Konrad fall back, and then I faced him. His strength was unbelievable. He would not be moved, and for every blow I dealt him, he paid me back twofold. But I..." he hesitated for a moment. His memories were fragmented, he did not remember clearly. "I swung my sword up, just under his helmet. He fell, and I... I turned..." he fell silent. What happened then he did not know. He only remembered pain, and rage. The anger at... what? Betrayal?   
  
Melchiah nodded emphatically. "I saw you fight, from the walls. You nearly took his head off with that blow, but your sword got stuck for a moment, and Oswald himself was behind you. He -- his sword was aglow with some supernatural light, and he ran you through."   
  
"Here," Kain added, and held up a reddened metal plate. Raziel recognised it with a shock. It was the back plate of his armour, but it had a gaping hole right in the middle of it. He reached behind his back, but there was no wound, no pain, just perfect skin. It began to dawn on him why he was covered in grime and ashes.   
  
"Even then, you kept fighting, but you were surrounded." Melchiah continued his tale. "They tore you limb from limb like dogs! Zephon fell back, and your men followed. Oswald's forces pursued them out into the field."   
  
Kain took up the story. "Conveniently, Dumah managed to breach the north gate of the city, just then. He crushed the forces within and soon, the city was his. Oswald's army, now leaderless, was caught out. We annihilated them."   
  
Raziel smiled proudly. He took part in this victory, even if he was nearly destroyed in the battle.   
  
"We found you trampled into the dust," Melchiah said. "You had lost both arms, was impaled on that enchanted sword, and they had split your skull open with an axe."   
  
Raziel's eyes grew wide. He flexed his hands, reached for his head. Perfect skin. Perfectly soft, new, straight hair... He stammered, "How?"   
  
"Your spirit held on, in spite of everything!" Melchiah answered, awestruck. "I took you here, and fed you. I washed your wounds in blood, and bound your arms to your body. Soon, the power of the blood took over. To all you appeared dead, but your wounds began to close. New flesh knitted itself together; the ragged edges of the old turned to dust."   
  
"And now you awaken once more," Kain added. "A testament to the power of your own will. I have lost good men for far less than what you suffered. Can you stand?"   
  
Raziel swung his legs over the edge of the royal bed and stood up. He wiped the dust from his shoulder, and smiled at his maker. Kain embraced him roughly, laughing softly. He let go, but pulled Raziel close with one hand on his shoulder and spoke softly into his ear. "Don't ever scare me like that again, Raziel." He left, but not without calling a parting comment over his shoulder. "Or I will kill you myself!"   
  
Raziel laughed and turned to his brother. Melchiah was smiling, happy and awed. Raziel embraced him.   
  
Melchiah whispered, holding on closely. "I cannot believe you're back. All these nights I hoped against hope... I cannot believe it."   
  
"It seems I have you to thank for it," Raziel answered. When he let go, he could see red tears running down Melchiah's face. "Thank you, my brother," he said emphatically. Melchiah bowed his head.   
  
"We should get you some clothes," he said, vaguely embarrassed.   
  
The royal wardrobe was filled with priceless finery. Raziel was not one to frown on luxury, and dressed in a silk undercoat with gold-tread embroidery and a flowing red robe lined with fur. "You think his crown is around here somewhere?" he asked Melchiah.   
  
Melchiah looked shocked. "I don't think Kain would approve of you crowning yourself king," he said.   
  
Raziel laughed, and strapped on a pair of gold-adorned boots. "Where are the others?" he asked.   
  
---   
  
Melchiah led him through the halls of the royal palace to the king's war-room, which had been taken over by Zephon. They found him poring over maps of Nosgoth, already planning the next push. He was surrounded by a few of his men. He turned, and for a moment his face was a perfect picture of surprise. He recovered quickly.   
  
"Raziel, you're finally up," he said leaning on the map table with one hand. "See, this is what becomes of your willfulness. Did I not tell you to fall back?" He punctuated each word by stabbing his index finger in Raziel's direction.   
  
Raziel smirked, and then they both burst into laughter. They embraced.   
  
"Raziel! It's good to see you're whole again."   
  
"It might never have come this far if I'd listened to you, Zephon."   
  
Zephon frowned briefly. "Hm, perhaps it was good that you didn't. You dealt them the fatal blow. This victory was as much yours as it was anyone's, Raziel." He gestured to the far wall of the room. "Behold, the spoils of war."   
  
Two helmets, one with long curved horns and one adorned with a silvered crown were set mockingly on top of two marble busts of previous human kings. Oswald's helmet, and his champion's. The last was badly damaged, and Raziel smiled.   
  
"Who slew Oswald?" he asked. They all turned to look at him, dumbstruck.   
  
"You did," Zephon said finally.   
  
"Don't you remember?" Melchiah asked. Raziel shook his head. "After he impaled you on his sword, you didn't stop! You lunged at him, and forced him to the ground. As far as I could tell, you ripped him apart with your bare hands." Raziel strained to remember. Fragments. He remembered the anger. He remembered yelling something. _In the back?_ He smiled. That was the betrayal that fuelled his rage. And his rage had apparently made him strong enough to kill a man in full plate armour with his bare hands.   
  
"See, that's what I've been telling you," Zephon told his officers. "A Razelim keeps fighting for several minutes after he should -- by all rights -- have fallen. Now you see from whom they get this trait." The men looked at Raziel, and nodded respectfully. "They're like chickens," Zephon continued absentmindedly, "they keep running around for a while after you take their heads off." Raziel frowned at the comparison, but Zephon had his back turned; he was looking at his maps again. "Our victory here was decisive, Raziel. Oswald's armies were wiped out completely, and the surrounding towns have no militia to speak of. This entire region," he turned to face Raziel again, "is ours. Meanwhile, we have had word from Rahab, who writes of an attack from the north, which he dealt with easily. Turel sends word that all is quiet at Darstein, which may not last, but is fortunate for as long as it does. Dumah has gone to join him now. That leaves only the city of Avernus, which, in spite of its hastily built defences, is ripe for the picking." He curled a clawed thumb and index finger around an imaginary grape, and squashed it, making a fist.   
  
"Zephon, all of Nosgoth is ours," Raziel said, laughing. "They cannot possibly stop us now!"   
  
"That was in fact the conclusion I was coming to," Zephon said precisely.   
  
A deep chuckle made them all turn around. Kain was there, leaning one of his powerful hands on king Oswald's helmet. Raziel wondered how long he had stood there, unnoticed.   
  
"My sons," he said, "it warms my heart to see that you share my vision. Soon, all of mankind will accept us as their lords, and we will rule absolutely. Our victory was inevitable, Zephon. Look upon your brother, so recently dead. Seeing that we are indestructible, how can any of these mortals deny that we are their betters, that we are their Gods?"   
  
"All hail, conqueror of Nosgoth," Raziel stated simply.   
  
"All hail," Melchiah answered, and Zephon's officered echoed likewise. Zephon smiled and nodded.   
  
"Avernus," he said, holding up one finger. "Avernus, then Nosgoth will be ours."   
  
"Avernus is in ruins, Zephon," Kain answered. "You could take it on your own."   
  
Melchiah laughed. "Single handedly," he added. But Zephon merely smiled.   
  
"Perhaps I shall." 


End file.
